The peaceful morning was rudely interrupted by the sound of Lia's voice, yanking me out of my delightful dreams of endless naps .

"Elena, wake up! We're going to miss the best time to gather the herbs!"

I bolted upright, my heart racing, trying to figure out if we were being invaded by herb thieves. Lia was at the foot of my bed, hands on her hips, eyes wide like she'd just discovered the internet was down. The sunlight streaming through the window made her look like a glowing, frustrated pixie.

"Lia," I groaned, my voice full of morning grogginess, "do you always have to be a human alarm clock?"

She rolled her eyes with the dramatic flair of a Broadway actress but couldn't hide her grin. "You know I do. Now hurry up! The forest isn't going to wait for us."

Mumbling a few curse words under my breath, I swung my legs over the bed, shivering as my feet hit the cold floor. The usual smell of herbs and earth mixed with morning air, reminding me that I wasn't still dreaming.

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Lia, ever the Tasmanian devil of energy, was already zipping around the room, grabbing baskets and tools.

"I saw some rare herbs on the edge of the clearing yesterday. If we don't get there soon, someone else might snatch them. And then what will we do? Use supermarket parsley?"

I couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm. Despite her near-constant hyperactivity, her excitement was catching. "Alright, alright, I'm up," I said, stretching like a cat who'd been disturbed one too many times. "Let's go before you explode."

We crept downstairs, greeted by the comforting crackle of the hearth and the grandfather clock's steady tick-tock. Our grandmother was still snoozing in her favorite armchair, snoring softly like a contented dragon. Lia and I exchanged a knowing look, tiptoeing to avoid the wrath of Grandma the Groggy.

In the kitchen, Lia thrust a slice of bread and a cup of herbal tea into my hands. "Quick breakfast," she declared, "we'll eat like kings when we get back. Or at least like dukes."

We wolfed down our breakfast and grabbed our baskets, stepping into the brisk morning air. The forest was calling, like a siren luring us to our leafy doom (or, you know, just a walk). As we walked, Lia's earlier intensity melted into a shared excitement. Our obsession with rare herbs had turned our usual morning routine into a grand adventure.

As we ventured deeper into the woods, the morning's chaos faded into the background. The forest embraced us, revealing its secrets with every step. Lia's laughter echoed through the trees, and I couldn't help but be grateful for her spirited wake-up call. I knew this day, like so many others, would be filled with the magic of our shared journey and probably a lot of herb-related antics.